What Men Want
by Monnie Geller
Summary: What surprises are in store for the holder of a mysterious necklace? C&M Completed!
1. Beers and Whistles

What Men Want

by Monica Bing

Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters of Friends, or anything related thereof, they belong to Warner Brothers and are used purely for entertainment, and obviously I'm making no money off of them.  Well...except for the occasional bribe...uh - I mean, what're you talking about?

**A/N:** well...Mon's back!  And she has this one ALL planned out! No more...making it up as we go along stuff...for now.  This idea came to me when I was...sleeping, I think.  Here it is, I'm not giving away plot or anything, except for **this takes place around the beginning of the show, and ****Chandler**** and Monica are not together.  Everything else is pretty much the same.  I hope you enjoy it!**

-----

_"They say it has a mystical power inside of it.  It's very valuable," the old woman said, holding out the small good luck pendant, grinning wildly._

_"Yeah?__ How valuable might you say?"_

_"Eh...I'll sell it to ya for twenty, because it's not that clean."_

_"Trust me, when I'm through with it, it won't even know what it feels like to be dirty."_

_"All right, but be careful.  And wear it always." The old woman took the crisp bill, and swapped it for the beautiful necklace._

_"I will."_

--

Monica opened her eyes, and sighed.  "Another boring day," she whispered to herself, before crawling out of bed, and trudging to the kitchen.  She picked up a pot of coffee, that Rachel, her roommate, had set out for her before she headed to work, and poured herself a little.  She took a sip of it, and, disgusted, spat it back out into the sink.  "Why in the hell does she make coffee still? She _can't_ fix _anything!" she muttered, pouring the rest of it down the sink, and drying her hands off on a towel.  She headed to the shower, deciding that she would get her coffee downstairs, at their normal hangout, Central Perk.  Stripping herself of her clothes, she scrunched up her nose at her reflection in the mirror, before stepping under the warm water.  She sighed in pleasure, and began to wash herself, thinking about the day ahead of her.  _

After she was finished, she wrapped a towel around herself, and headed back out to the living room, where her friend Joey was sitting lazily on the couch, flipping through channels on the television.

"Hey Joey," Monica said, cheerfully.

"Oh, hey Mon - i - ca..." he had just turned his head, and saw her in her towel, and his speech had stumbled.  She laughed lightly, and walked off to her room, where she put on her clothes quickly.  She made yet another trip to her bathroom, and put on her makeup, and jewelry.  While taking out her earrings, she saw a shiny necklace fall to the ground.  Picking it up, she noticed that it was something she had bought a week or so ago, and was waiting for a special occasion to wear.  It had a long silver chain, and a teardrop pendant in the middle.  The woman who had sold it to her, sort of frightened her, and said something about a power, or something.  Her thoughts were interrupted when Joey called out from the living room.

"Hey, Mon?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to make breakfast, or what?" he asked, honestly.

"Actually, I thought we were going to go to Central Perk to have breakfast."

"Oh, all right, I guess I'll head down, then.  See ya!" he called.

"Yup.  Byeeee!" she yelled from the bathroom, and poked her head out of the door to smile at him before he left.  Just as soon as Monica was relaxing again, the door opened to reveal a soaking wet Phoebe.  She was a ditzy friend of theirs.  Monica, who had put her jewelry away, came out of the room with a half-confused, half-amused look on her face.  She stifled a smile.

"What happened, Pheebs?" Monica asked, trying not to laugh.

"Rotten boys!" she yelled, flailing her arms, and storming into the living room, her feet squishing with water as she walked.  Monica followed her, and sat on the table across from the sofa Phoebe slumped down on.  "If they think they can get away with tossing water balloons on my head, and giggling at me, they've got another thing coming!"  Monica bit her tongue to keep from laughing.  Phoebe then added, "oh, yeah, Mon...aren't you supposed to be making breakfast?"

--

Sitting downstairs at Central Perk, Rachel, who was supposed to be working, and Joey were discussing a book they had both read.

"Seriously, that guy needed to be in a mental institution." Rachel commented.

"Who, the kid, or the father?" Joey asked, curious.

"Both of them were whacko."

"Nuh-uh!" Joey defended, "the kid wasn't 'whacko', he just had telepathy."

"Whoa, Joey, isn't that word a little big for you?"

"Hey-hey! Don't bring my intelligence into this!"

Rachel shrugged him off, and went back to serving coffee.  Monica entered, a little weathered, and a little wet.  She groaned, and sat down next to Phoebe, who was smiling.

"Balloon Boys?" she asked.  Monica nodded, rolling her eyes, and Phoebe giggled.

"I _told_ you!"  Monica hit her on the arm, and Phoebe stuck her tongue out at her.  Chandler came strolling into the coffeehouse.

"Hello children," he said, sitting on the far end of the sofa, next to Ross, who was reading a paper, ignoring the rest.  Chandler leaned close to him, and yelled in his ear, "Hey, Ross!"  Ross jumped and looked up, squeaking a little, until he noticed Chandler grinning like a maniac, and laughed sarcastically.

"Excuse me...the actual _adult_ here would like to try and get some work done!"

"What? I don't see any adults..." he remarked, looking around.  Monica smiled at this, and Chandler caught her eye and grinned again, before heading up to order his coffee.

"I swear," Ross said, shaking his head, "if he doesn't grow up, he's never going to get a girlfriend."

"Or a boyfriend," Joey added, nodding.  Monica was getting a little tired of hearing them, and decided to skip breakfast, and hang out in her apartment until she had to leave for work. She got up, and started towards the door, calling a "see ya guys," quickly as she left.  The others sort of glanced at the door oddly, and shrugged, going back to conversation.

--

At the apartment, Monica flopped on the couch, and turned on the TV, flipping pointlessly through the channels.  The same thought kept entering her mind. _What did that woman mean? She shut off the TV and headed to the bathroom, putting on the nice necklace she bought a week ago.  When she shut the clasp on the back of her neck, the light in the bathroom flickered ever so slightly.  She glanced up, a little nervous, but nothing else happened.  Looking in the mirror, she saw how nice it looked on her.  __Maybe I'll wear it for a date, she said to herself, taking it back off.  The lights flickered again.  __That's odd.  She decided to take a nap, until work, away from everyone, and everything.  She fell asleep thinking about _when_ the time would come that she'd actually have a date, let alone an occasion to wear the mysterious necklace._

--

"Monica," Phoebe whispered, shaking her sleeping friend, "wake up, Mon!"

"Uh?" Monica mumbled, rubbing her eyes, "what time is it?"

"It's eleven thirty!"

"What?!" Monica sat up quickly, knocking her forehead against Phoebe's, and falling backwards.  They both rubbed their new bumps at the same time.  "Sorry," she whispered, embarrassed.  Phoebe just dismissed her with a wave of her hand, her eyes still closed in a dull pain.

"It's fine.  Go get ready for work, silly goose." 

Monica was snapped back to reality again. "Oh, right!" she jumped up, and found her purse and jacket by the door, running out, with a "bye, Pheebs!" behind her.

--

Monica arrived very late to work, receiving odd stares from her coworkers, who knew how punctual she usually was.  It was common for people to become uneasy around her, because she was so accurate in everything she did.  Her kitchen had to be spotless when she worked.

"A place for everything, and everything in its place," she always said.

It was near closing time, and there were still a couple of customers left in the restaurant, but Monica was busy nonetheless.  She was in the back, stirring a sauce, when one of the waitresses came into the kitchen.

"Monica?" She asked.

"Hmm?" Monica didn't turn around.

"There's someone here to compliment the chef." She said, smiling playfully, but Monica didn't see her do so.

"All right, send them in." She replied, grinning.  She continued to stir the sauce, and heard the door open.

"Ah-Miss Geller?"

Monica heard a man's voice.  It sounded professional, yet a little seductive.  "Yes?" She turned around, and gasped.  A man, quite tall, and quite handsome, was standing in the doorway of her kitchen.  _My kitchen, she thought. He looked like he couldn't have been more than twenty four.  He smiled, and she almost melted._

"My compliments to the chef," he said, walking towards her, and extending his hand.  "Very excellent job.  I'm Dan Greer, by the way."

"Monica Geller," she replied, quietly.  He took her outstretched hand, and kissed her knuckles.  Her eyes almost closed.  _So...a romantic, huh?_

"Look, this is kind of an impulse for me, but, would you like to go out with me tomorrow evening?"

"I would love to." She said, smiling broadly.

"Wonderful.  Shall I meet you outside of here, tomorrow, say, around 7?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Great I'll see you then.  It was great meeting you."

"You too." He then winked at her, turned around, and left, without another word.  Seconds later, it hit Monica.  _What're you doing? she asked herself.  She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.  The air she inhaled smelled like burnt tomatoes.  "Shit!" she yelled, and ran over to the stove, where she had left her sauce boiling in a large pot._

--

Monica came home late that evening, to find a sleeping Chandler on her sofa.  Irritably, she snuck up to him and leaned over.

"What're you doing?" She yelled in his ear, annoyed that she had caught him with a blanket and everything.

"Huh?" Chandler replied, rubbing his eyes.

"Wake up! I think you missed your apartment!"

"Only by a few feet." He was still cracking jokes, even if he wasn't aware of his surroundings.  He sat up, stifling a yawn, and looking at his watch.

"What're you doing here?" She asked from the back of the sofa.

"I'm sorry.  You were working late, and..." his voice trailed off.  He looked almost embarrassed.

"And...?" She was curious.

"I wanted to make sure you came home safe. You were out later than I thought you'd be, and I was worried.  I'm sorry for making you mad." _He really does look sorry.  She immediately lost all irritation with him, and smiled apologetically._

"No, I'M sorry.  I didn't know.  Thank you."

He grinned back, and she crossed around in front of him, as he tossed his blanket to the side, and patted his lap.  She sat in it, and he wrapped his arms around her in a friendly embrace.

"So...how was your day?" he asked.

"Wonderful."

"You got complimented, then?"

"Well, once...other than you," she added, grinning at the memory.

"Oh? Who?"

"He introduced himself as Dan.  AND he asked me out!" She giggled, and he squeezed her a little tighter to him.

"That's awesome, Mon." She didn't see his face fall, nor did she notice the disappointment in his voice.

"I KNOW!" She said, in a typical-Monica-fashion, "we're going out tomorrow.  I'm so excited, he is SO cute!"

Chandler plastered on his best smile, and watched his best friend's face light up, as she talked about this new guy in her life.  _This new guy_, he thought, _that'll probably break your fragile heart.  I'm just glad I'm here for you, when you need me, at least.  She couldn't hear him, though, as he was only thinking it._

--

"It's TONIGHT!" Monica yelled, practically jumping up and down.  Rachel turned to Phoebe, and, out of the corner of her mouth, muttered,

"I hope he's a good lay, for _her sake."  Phoebe nodded, and they followed a giddy Monica into her bedroom.  She began digging through her closet, trying to find an outfit to wear._

"So...where is this guy taking you?" Rachel asked, as she saw Monica pulling out a satin gown, and considering it.

"I actually don't know." Monica replied, discarding the outfit, and picking up a blue skirt instead.  She found a coordinating blouse, and placed  them neatly onto the bed.  "But I'll find out, soon enough.  Now, shoo! I need to get dressed!"  She ushered Rachel and Phoebe out of the room, and shut the door.  She sighed, and put on her clothes, careful not to wrinkle them.  She crossed to the bathroom, without a second glance towards the girls who had seated themselves on the sofa, reading the latest issues of Cosmo and Glamour.  She meticulously applied her makeup, sticking her extra compact and some other things into her purse.  Smacking her lips, and winking at her reflection, she turned out the lights, and walked back into the living room.  The girls stood up to walk her down to the front door of the complex.

"How do I look?" Monica asked, when they reached the bottom of the long flight of stairs.

"Like...a million dollars." Phoebe said, smiling, and Rachel gave her the thumbs up.

"All right.  Wish me luck." She started towards the street, holding up her hand to hail a cab.

"Good luck!" Phoebe called after her, as the door was swinging shut.

"She said _wish it_, Pheebs." Rachel said, rolling her eyes, as they trudged back up the stairs together.

--

The cab ride was long, but Monica didn't feel that way when she got in.  All she could think about was where he was going to take her, and what they were going to do.  What kind of a person Dan was...and what he thought of _her_, as well.  Her mind was swamped, as she got out of the cab at her restaurant, Alessandros.  Sure enough, there he was, gorgeous as ever, and smiling.  He was wearing clothes a little less formal than she had been expecting...

_Well, all right...a __LOT__ less formal...she thought to herself.  _

She looked him up and down, as he did the same.  He was wearing a pair of jeans, and a button up shirt, that didn't look too fancy.  From the looks of it, he almost looked like he had come from the bar...

_or__ is heading to one._

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hey."

"You look good."

"You look better." He said, smiling.  He took her by the elbow, and led her to a cab he had waiting.

"So..." she said, after the cab had pulled away from Alessandros, "where exactly are we going?"

"Well, I didn't really know what you liked, so I decided we'd go to one of my favorite places, Mudd's.  They have some _mean_ buffalo wings."

Monica smiled slightly.  She didn't _really_ like the sound of that, but she'd give him the hint later.

The restaurant was packed...and noisy.  She mentally noted to herself that it wasn't a good idea to judge a book by its cover.  She noticed that he was so much different than when they first met; he was a lot louder, and much more casual.

"Seat yourselves, Dan!" the bartender called, from the middle of the room.

"Thanks, Lou!"

_Oh God, the bartender knows him by name?_ She thought.  _Jesus, woman, what did you get yourself into?_

She took the time she had, while he was leading her to their seat, to look around the room.  There were at least a hundred people packed in this small place, and it looked just like he'd described it: A place where 'mean buffalo wings' were served.  There was a huge bar in the center, surrounded by old men sucking down one beer after another, and a scratchy-faced, cigar-wielding bartender was wiping his counter on the other side.  There were high chairs and high tables around the entire place, and small televisions were assorted around the room playing football.  

It was a sports-fanatic's paradise.

"Well, what do you think?" He asked, grinning at all the catcalls the men had been giving her when they walked in.  She had become immediately uncomfortable, but she wasn't about to forget about having a good time.  _After all, this could be a really great guy I'm going out with.  Right?_

"It's..." she searched for an appropriate word, "fun."

"Glad you like it."

"Me too.  Now, if you'd like to order me...uh...something to drink...I need to go to the restroom.  Do you know where it is?"

"Straight back." He said, without looking.  She glanced up, and sure enough, there was a sign above a doorway labeled "Johns".  

"Thanks." 

The thought of that name being used for a bathroom made her sick to her stomach.  She walked towards it, and heard whistles behind her as she went.  That made her even more uncomfortable. _Chin up, Monica.  She entered the ladies' room, and checked herself out in the dusty mirror.  She heard giggles behind her, and, seconds later, a man and a woman, visibly drunk, stumbled out of a nearby stall, and trudged out the door, smiling mischievously.  Monica shook her head, and went back to digging through her purse for her lipstick.  She felt her fingers close around it, and she pulled it up, but noticed that a necklace came up with it._

"Huh," She said aloud, "how'd that get in there?"

  
Holding it up, she saw that it matched her outfit, so she decided to put it on.  Closing the small clasp in the back, the lights in the bathroom flickered.

_Dejavoodoo._

She smiled, and adjusted the pendant, before applying her lipstick.  She exited the bathroom quietly, and heard a bombardment of more rude comments from the men around her.

"Whoa mamma!" One of them said.

"Mm-mm good.  Nice tits, hun."  Said another.

"Man, I'd like to take that fine piece of ass, toss it up onto that bar, and - "

"Monica!"

She heard Dan's voice across the restaurant.  She looked up, sharply, and met his gaze.  Smiling, she walked quickly over to him, and joined him at the table, where their drinks had been served.

"I went ahead and ordered you a beer."

"Oh.  All right." She tried to hide her disgust, and apparently did it well.  She looked up, and caught his eye.  He smiled.

"Are you having fun?"

"Mm-hmm." She nodded, looking down at the menu.

"He shoots, he scores!"

"What?" Monica asked, looking back up again.

"I didn't say anything," Dan said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," she began reading again.

"Meow! Feisty little one, aren't you? I'm sure you're an MVP in the sack."

"_Excuse_ me?" she looked up from her menu, visibly blushing.

"What? I didn't say anything!"

"Yes you did!"

"What did I say?"

"I dare not repeat it!" Monica was thoroughly disgusted.

"I swear to you, I didn't say anything to you! Especially something inappropriate."  He looked her square in the eyes...

_But I was thinkin' it._

...his lips weren't moving.  

She blinked several times, before snapping to reality.  What had just happened?

"I - I'm sorry.  I must've imagined it."

"Are you sure you're okay?" _Champ?_

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"All right."  They went back to silence, but not total silence.

_Who's playing tonight? Do I want to see them?  Football is so cool, I wish women played it.  Basketball is getting a little old, but hey, it's still sports, isn't it?_

It finally hit her.  She was reading his thoughts.  But...how?

_What a sports freak_, she thought to herself, and then realized he might be able to know what she was thinking as well.  The thought frightened her.

"Listen," Monica said, trying to keep her composure, "this has been fun, but I really need to go.  I promised my friend I'd help her with...something...and I totally forgot.  Thanks a lot.  I had a great time.  See ya!"

She practically flew out the door.

-----

And that's the first chapter! Let me know if I should continue! Well...let me know if you're going to READ what I continue WITH...


	2. The Inquisitive Oddball

What Men Want - Chapter Two

by Monnie Geller (formerly known as Monica Bing or Monica Bing1)

_A/N: I'm so glad you guys liked my beginning!  And I'm really sorry for taking so long with the update! And yeah, you all are very smart, and know just what my basis was.  It is from What Women Want, the Mel Gibson movie, but it DEFINITELY has some twists that I hope you'll like.  Many, many thanks for the reviews, and I hope there are more to come!  3 Monnie._

_Oh, and I don't know if I mentioned this before, but this story is dedicated to my Cool Aunt Kim Who Always Has Gum, because she's awesome, and spent an hour long car drive helping me figure out exactly how the plot worked in this fic.  I LOVE YOU, KIMMY ANN SUE MARIE RENEE NICOLE!  You're my favorite moon!_

-----

Monica was out of breath, when she reached her apartment building.  She had been watching out of the back window of the cab the entire ride home, and had the driver drop her off a block from home, so as to throw off the imaginary person she was convinced was following her.  _How? How did this happen? She asked herself, partially fearing the answer.  She opened the door of her apartment, and saw movement on the sofa.  She grabbed the butcher knife, and held it in front of her._

"Get out!" she yelled, backing towards the wall, and opening the door, still amidst her nervous breakdown, and desperate to use any means to get as far away from men as she could.  If it was Chandler, she didn't want him reading her thoughts, or whatever it was that was happening to her.  But it wasn't Chandler's head that appeared from in front of the sofa, it was Rachel's.

"What? What's going on?!" Rachel's eyes darted around the room, looking for whatever it was that Monica was yelling at, "who's here?!"

"I - no one," Monica breathed, setting the knife down on the counter, and coming over to collapse on the sofa, next to Rachel, who had a book open, face down, on the arm of the couch.

"You scared the bejeezus out of me, Mon!"

"Sorry."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing.  Just a - " she debated as to whether she was going to tell her or not, and decided against it.  Telling Rachel that Monica was a mind reader was like revealing the fact that people thought Rachel was a hermaphrodite in high school.  It just wasn't done.  " - a weird night, that's all."

"Okay, then," Rachel wasn't so sure, but she decided to drop the subject, "so, how was the date?" Rachel hoped that would brighten her spirits, or at least change the subject.

"I don't really wanna talk about it."

"That bad, huh?"

"No, it's just - I don't wanna talk about it.  Look, I just want to go to bed.  I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Alright.  Goodnight, Mon." Rachel gave her friend a strange look, before Monica disappeared into her bedroom.  She didn't even bother to put her jewelry in the bathroom.  She just laid it all down on her dresser, changed, and got into bed.  Lying awake, an hour later, she was still thinking about what had happened.  _So...I could read his thoughts...but how? The answer never found her, but she was determined to figure it out.  _Eh, something to leave for tomorrow, when I'm more active._  That thought helped her sleep, and she drifted off, wondering what was in store for her when morning came again._

--

There was a loud, insistent banging on her door.

"Monica! Come on!" Phoebe's voice was heard.

"Get up!" And then Rachel's.

"It's Wednesday!"

"Time for shopping!"

Monica groaned, and rolled out of bed, her hair strewn about on her head recklessly.  She didn't have very pleasant dreams the night before, and the sheets on the floor, and pillows on the other end of the bed were proof.  She groaned, and made her bed, before she even thought about fixing her hair, or responding to the two girls who were still knocking on her door, pleading with her to come out.  Once her bed was back to its flawless state, Monica called out to them.

"Would you two _please_ stop that incessant noise? I'll be out in a minute!"

"But Mon!" Phoebe began.

"No 'buts'!"

"Monica!"

"Ah-ah!" She tried to ignore her.

"I just have one question!" She said, a little louder than before.  Monica opened her door to see a pleasant looking Phoebe on the other side of it.

"What?" Monica asked, irritably.

"What is 'incessant'?"

Monica promptly shut the door in her face, and continued getting dressed.

_(A/N: And for those of you who are too lazy to get your dictionaries out, incessant is another word for never-ending. Just a bit of random trivia for you.)_

--

The three girls, purses all slung over the same shoulder, walked arm-in-arm into Bloomingdales, a department store merely twenty minutes from home.  Upon entering, they each headed for a different section of the women's clothing.  Phoebe, who was looking for shirts in particular, held a loose fitting blouse up to her torso, and admired it in the mirror.  Rachel looked at the sizes of several skirts on a clearance rack, and Monica checked the prices of some satin lingerie she had found nearby.  Each of them was minding their own business, when a man approached Monica, looking over her shoulder at her selection, and smiling slyly.  Monica turned around to ask Rachel a question, when she ran smack into him, and stumbled backwards, nearly knocking over a rack of French underwear on display.

"Oops, sorry," she mumbled, holding the leopard-printed thong that she had in her hand behind her back.

"Quite alright, miss, uh - " He raised his eyebrows, curious as to what her name was.

"Monica."

"Mmm.  Miss Monica, I'm Alan.  Alan Hayfield.  I presume you have a last name?"

"Y-yes," she said, feeling slightly overpowered under his intense gaze.  He smiled pleasantly, and she smiled back, finally realizing how cute he was.  He wasn't a very muscular man, but he was attractive nonetheless. 

"Ah, well, may I ask what it is?"

"Geller."

"Monica Geller?"

"Yes."

"Well, Miss Geller, it was a pleasure meeting you." He extended his hand, and she reached out to shake it, but ended up handing him the thong she held instead.  She blushed, and made an incoherent noise, before tossing it behind her, and on to a small container of similar underwear, and avoided his eyes again.  Over his shoulder, she saw Rachel and Phoebe clinging to each other, biting back laughter to a point that it looked painful.

"T-that was um, on the floor, and I was picking it up."

"Mm-hmm.  How much was it?"

"Eight ninety five - um, I mean - " Rachel had both of her hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle, and Phoebe looked as if she were about to cry, " - I didn't see the tag."

"Yes, well...you have excellent taste." He smiled, and she blushed again, glancing over his shoulder.  He turned around, and saw Phoebe and Rachel straighten themselves up, and pretend to be involved in something else.

"So Pheebs," Rachel said, loudly and quickly, holding up a repulsive-looking polka-dotted jacket, "how much do you think this is?"

  
"Well, the price tag says - "

"Is that so? Well, price tags can be misleading - let's go check it out, shall we?" She grabbed Phoebe's arm, and dragged her off to the side, and out of view.  Laughing, Alan turned around, and his eyes softened.

"Well, I've taken up enough of your time - " Monica said, beginning to leave, and Alan put his hand on her shoulder.

"Wait."

She turned around. "Hmm?"

"I'm so sorry for putting you through that.  Let me make it up to you?"

"How so?" Monica raised an eyebrow.

"By taking you to dinner."

_Oh, boy..._ she thought.  "That depends."

"On what?"

"Where you'd take me." _I'm not in the mood for a repeat of my last date._

"How does Mexican sound to you?"

"Sounds great."

"Awesome.  Is there any place I can reach you?"

"Yes, hold on." She dug into her purse, and found a small piece of paper, scribbled her phone number on it, and handed it to him, "that's my home number.  You can call me anytime after seven thirty tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it.  See you soon."

"Bye," Monica waved as he turned his head, and pocketed the paper, and disappearing around the corner.

"Go Mon, go Mon! Go! Go! Go Mon!" Phoebe and Rachel sang, dancing out of the dressing room and congratulating their friend on her victory.

"Man.  Two guys in three days.  What's that about?" 

"I dunno...you've been looking pretty good lately, Mon," Phoebe commented, looking her up and down.  Rachel agreed.

"Oh yeah.  Knock 'em dead."

"I suppose.  So, what am I going to wear?" Monica asked.

"Where do you think we are? A button factory?" Rachel told her, as Phoebe picked up the underwear that Monica had discarded.

"Maybe _I_ should get some of this stuff," she said, and Monica laughed, and snatched it from her.

--

"So..." Monica said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had formed during dinner three nights later.

"So..." was all Alan replied with, picking at the food on his plate.

"So what do you do for a living?" she asked, hoping to hear a decent answer.

"I'm a scientist."

"A scientist? Well, what do you study?"

"Mostly just molecules; chemical bonds; you know, the basic stuff.  I've only been working in a lab for about three or four months, so, I don't have much work."

_At least you're not a pig-headed sports fanatic, _she thought, the vivid memories of her date rushing back to her at once.  _Oh, no...please don't let my curse return again.  She thought about what she would do if it was still happening, and her thoughts were broken when he tapped her on the shoulder._

"Monica?"

She was snapped back to reality. "Yeah?"

"I've been trying to talk to you for the past five minutes.  Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She felt something slippery fall over her neck, and she glanced down to see her necklace falling into her shirt. She hastily pulled it up, realizing that she hadn't actually attached it when she put it on, but rather snagged it on the back of her shirt, and she tried to fasten it.  He leaned across the table.

"Here, let me," he said, reaching around her neck to close the clasp.  The familiar flicker of the lights appeared again, and she wondered how long coincidence was just coincidence. "So, Monica, what do you do for a living? I mean, apart from picking out such tasteful lingerie." He added, with a playful smile.

"I'm a chef."

"Oh? Well, what kinds of things do you cook?"

"Mostly cuisine-type recipes.  I'm actually the head chef at Alessandros, across town."

"Oh, really?"

She nodded.  "Have you ever been there?"

"No, but a couple friends of mine have.  And they died coincidentally three days later."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

"But I'm sure the restaurant had nothing to do with it."

"With what?"

"Your friends' deaths."

"How did you know that they died?"

"You just told me!"

"No, I didn't!"

_Dear God, it's back._  "Um, I must've heard about it, and made a quick assumption." She tried to shrug it off.

"Wow, you're good." _I like telepathy in a woman.  It's...unusual._

"Thanks.  So..." she tried to steer the conversation from her lack of ability to keep her mouth closed, and she succeeded.

"Hey, here's a question!" he said.  _Have you ever wanted to eat and then swim in a pool just to find out why people don't advise it? _"Who were those girls you were with, the other day, when we met at the store?" _Do M&M's make you laugh?_

"They're a couple of my best friends.  One of them is my roommate."

"Oh, interesting." _Have you ever replayed a movie in your head before? I've got loads of questions.  Were you a priest in another life? Just ask, man, ask!_

"I suppose."

"Um..." _Want to hear some random facts?  Ducks are really funny.  I can't stand cornrow braids, because they remind me too much of the vegetable. I also eat beans for fun._

The entire dinner carried on no differently.

--

Monica shuddered as Alan closed the door to the cab, and the driver opened the partition.

"Where to, ma'am?" he asked.

"Bedford street," she responded simply, and shivered again as he pulled away from the small Mexican restaurant.

"Bad date?"

"You have _no_ idea."

He laughed.  "I'm Marcus, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Marcus." _I really don't feel like being asked out right now, she thought._

He huffed audibly. "Okay, that's fine.  I was just making conversation."

"What?"

"Nothing." _You didn't tell me your name.  I was only curious! He thought._

"Oh! I'm Monica."

Marcus smiled. "Nice to meet you, Monica.  Say, what was so terrible about that guy? He looked pretty decent to me."

"His personality wasn't the best."

"Aw, I hate guys like that."

"Me, too."

The rest drive home was quite silent,  When they arrived at Monica's apartment complex, she opened the door and stepped out, taking her wallet out of her purse.

"How much?" she asked.

"Thirty-five, ma'am." Marcus said.

_Thirty-five?!__ Monica thought. __You can buy a day's worth of groceries for that much!_

"That was sort of the point of the fare, Monica." Marcus said.She looked up.

"What?" she said, slowly.

"The thirty-five dollars.  It can buy a day's worth of groceries.  That was the point."

_You can hear me? _She thought again.

"Sure can." Marcus smiled.

_Oh yeah? Well, I can hear you._

_I know._

_How?_

_It's a secret.  _Monica handed him the money, and he reached across the passenger seat to take it from her.  "Nice necklace, by the way," he added, his sleeve falling back on his arm to reveal a silver chain adorned with charms, one of which was a beautiful silver color, and in the shape of a teardrop, identical to the one she wore around her own neck.  "You get that at a flea market?" She nodded.  "Bought it from that scary old bird, mentioning something about some 'hidden power'?"

Monica found her voice again.  "Yeah, why?"

Marcus smiled. "I think you solved the mystery."

-----

_Whee! And my dramatic music begins....NOW! *dum-dum-dum* !  Please leave me a review, ESPECIALLY if you're going to continue reading.  Thanks a mill! Ciao, bebe._


	3. Lustful Gambling

What Men Want

by Monnie

Chapter Three

_A/N:  Since when was everyone convinced that Monica would read __Chandler__'s thoughts? *huffs* Maybe .... well ... maybe __Chandler__ gets eaten by monkeys, and we find out that his last words were "Monica is a banana."  And then she turns into a cauliflower instead.  Did you ever think of that?! HUH?!_

_*pause* ...am I THAT easy to read?_

_FINE! GO AHEAD! FIGURE ME OUT! I KNEW YOU'D DO IT! *huffs again*_

_Oh, the story? Nah, I decided that I'd just write three page author's notes, and never continue again.  Sound good? Of course it does.  Anyhoo...you should listen to Hard Candy, by Counting Crows.  I got their CD, it rocks ASS (to use the BRILLIANT words of the prettiful Shampoo).  _

_This is a DEFINITE PG-13 chapter, it gets a lil' steamy.  It's like...a "Yen & Becca PG-13" (copyright 2003 by SexyFriendsMonkeys :P) so...if you don't want to read it, I'll tell you when to stop. But who doesn't like reading a little lovin'?!_

_Oh, and there's a quote in here from Pretty Woman.  Bonus points if you can find it._

-----

Monica watched, bewildered, as Marcus, the cab driver, sped off into the darkness.  _So, the old woman was right.  She smiled wryly, and headed up the stairs to the apartment, hoping, for once, that someone was there.  Sure enough, the two girls were sitting, and chatting, when Monica walked through the unlocked door._

"Guess what?!" Monica said, ecstatic.  She sat down quickly, while Rachel spoke, not moving her eyes from the magazine she was reading.

"You're not getting laid tonight?" Rachel snickered, and Phoebe covered her laugh with an obvious forced cough.

"Neither are you," Monica pointed out, causing the smile to fade from Rachel's face, and continued with what she was saying, "I found the best thing out this evening."

"Wait, Mon, first tell us about your date!" Phoebe said.  Rachel nodded.

"Well, Pheebs, I found your soul mate."

Phoebe brightened considerably, "really? What was he like?"

"A total nut case."

Monica laughed along with Rachel, and then abruptly stopped to change the subject.  "But I don't want to talk about the date.  Listen, what I want to tell you is _super_ important.  You can't tell _anyone."_

"Oh, is it about the time when - "

"Rachel Green!"

"Sorry."

"No, it's about this necklace I bought."  Monica pulled the charm out of her shirt, and showed it to the girls, who didn't look amused.

"Mon, we know it's pretty, and the old lady at the flea market said it was all mysterious and crap, but just because you paid $20 for it, doesn't mean we want to read about its history."

"Oh, but you'll like this."

"See?" Rachel turned to Phoebe, "I knew she'd do it."

"Oh, shut up!" Monica hit her in the arm, and Rachel winced.  "Anyway! The power that the woman said was behind it, is really true!" She looked enthusiastic, but the other two just stared at her.

"She's more daft than _I am!" Phoebe said, gesturing at her._

"No, I'm serious! You want to know what the power is?"

"What is it, Mon?" Rachel said, unenthusiastically.

"It has the power to read men's thoughts,"  Monica said, with an ominous voice.  Rachel stared at her.

"That's it!" she said, picking up the phone, "Pheebs, you know some weird stuff, what's the number for the asylum?"

Phoebe looked at the ceiling, thoughtfully, "Oh, it's 555 - "

"Guys! I'm serious!" Monica whined, knocking the phone out of Rachel's hand, who looked taken aback.

"So am I!" She snapped back, lunging after it, and missing, landing on top of Monica, who flicked her on the forehead.

"Oww!"

"Geroff!" Monica groaned, and Rachel rolled over, and fell onto the floor.

"Oof! Okay, I'm off!"  She sat up, and brushed off her clothes.

"So, how do you know it reads men's thoughts?" Phoebe asked, now seeming to be genuinely curious.

"Actually, it reads the thoughts of the opposite sex.  That's how the cabby was reading MY mind."

"Wait.  The cabby was reading your thoughts?"

"Yeah, it's a long story."

"Okay, then.  Anyway, how does it work?"

"When you keep the clasp shut around your neck, the thoughts just kind of...appear in your mind, like, as if you were reading something aloud in your head."

"Aloud in your head?" Rachel asked.

"You've never done that?" Monica and Phoebe said, simultaneously, and smiled at each other.  They stopped speaking for a moment.

"Okay, look," Monica said, breaking the silence, "we just need someone to test it on!"

"Like who?"  Phoebe said, looking around the room.  Rachel glanced at Monica for an answer.

"Well, we need someone who would do something, and not know what it was he was doing - "

"Hey, Mon? Can I borrow some jam? I kinda ran out and - what?"  Joey, who had interrupted her by popping his head in the door, noticed the three girls look at each other, and then at him.  He threw his hands up.  "Look, whatever it is, I can assure you it was Ross and/or Chandler's fault."

--

"Look, Joey, I just want you to sit still, and think about something - that isn't sandwiches!" Monica added, after seeing Joey's look, "and then I'll tell you what you're thinking of, and you tell me if it's right.  Okay?"

"Okay.  Just one quick question."

Monica raised her eyebrows at the man on the couch, who had two girls on either side of him.  "Shoot."

"Do you have to win?"

"No, I want you to be honest this time."

"Okay, I can do that.  You're sure?"

"Yes, Joey."

"Positive? This isn't one of your sick and twisted power mind games where you try and convince yourself and others that you're not just an obsessive competitive - "

"JOEY!" 

"Right! Tell me what I'm thinking.  Okay. Hmmm." He squeezed his eyes shut, and Monica shut the clasp on her necklace, making the lights flicker as usual.  Phoebe and Rachel flinched at this, but watched them both intently just the same.

"You're thinking..." Monica began, "that you're guessing I'm - WHAT?!"

Joey opened his eyes. "What?" he asked, innocently.

"Joseph Tribbiani!" She stood up quickly, and looked as if she were about to smack him.

"IT WAS CHANDLER! HE DID IT!" He said immediately, and he stood up, preparing to leave.  Phoebe and Rachel both took one sleeve of his shirt, and pulled him back down.

"Well? What was he thinking?" Rachel asked, leaning forward, as Joey tried to free himself from the grip the two girls had put him in.

"He was thinking that ... he was - he was thinking - "

"Oh, SPIT IT OUT, WOMAN!"

"He was trying to guess what color bra I was wearing.  And he guessed that I wasn't wearing one at all."

"Is this true, Joey?" Phoebe asked, turning his face to look into her own.  Joey nodded down, and blushed.

"Well, that could have been a fluke!"  Rachel said, looking at Phoebe for support, who agreed.

"Yeah! Read his mind again!"

"Oh, fine!" Monica sat down, and shut her eyes.  She then opened them, "and I am TOO wearing a bra, Joey!" 

Joey laughed, "I know, but it's see-through, isn't it?"

"Joey!" Rachel and Phoebe said, hitting him on the back of the head.  Monica shut her eyes again, and Joey sat still.

_What are you thinking...hmm..._ she concentrated harder, and heard Joey's voice.

_Monica, if you can hear me...you probably don't want to say what I'm thinking.  I want to tell  you a secret, but only if you promise not to tell.  I'll give you something else to say, but shh, okay? I've gotten a crush on Phoebe.  But you can't tell her, because I don't want to start anything.  And I had to tell someone, because it was eating me alive, and now, I can tell you without a risk of someone else hearing!  Yeah, that was my secret.  Now, just pretend I thought something about needing to talk to Estelle about an acting job for a commerical about baby food.  You can open your eyes now._

Monica smiled, and looked back up.  "He was thinking that he needed to talk to Estelle about an acting job."

"What kind of acting job?" Joey asked, curious.

"A baby food commercial?"

"Wow, Mon! That's amazing!" Joey said, as the other two looked on, awestruck.  Monica caught his gaze, and his eyes softened, and he looked embarrassed.  She nodded, and he returned the gesture, but the other two were so caught up in what had just happened, they didn't even notice.

"Okay, Joey, that's all we wanted." Rachel said, and began to push him toward the door.

"All right! All right! I'm going! But um - "

"What is it?" Phoebe asked, while Rachel had him halfway out of the apartment.

"Can I have my jam, please?"

--

"So, Mon, what're you going to DO with this newfound power?" Rachel asked, when Joey had finally gotten his share of jam, and was forced out of the apartment.

"I don't know!" Monica said, throwing her hands up.  "It's not exactly the best thing to know about.  It turns out that all the guys I'm interested in are either freaks, or weird, or...freaks!"

"Hmm, maybe you're going after the wrong guys!" Phoebe pointed out, as if this was new information.

"Ya THINK?!" Monica hit herself on the head to emphasize her point, and winced, "ouch..."

"Oh! I have an idea!" Rachel said, standing up.

"What?" Phoebe asked, and stood up, as well.

"That maybe we should sit down?" Monica said, crossing her legs, as the girls looked over at her, and sat again.

"You could use that thing as a weapon!" Rachel said, smiling.

"How so?" Monica was intrigued.

"You could, like, walk up to a guy you don't know, listen to his thoughts, and then change yourself and pretend you're interested in the same things!"

"But what if I'm not?"

"You can figure that stuff out later.  Okay, here's the plan.  Tomorrow, we go out to Central Perk, and you get yourself a date."

"But I just saw two guys in three days!"

"Uh-huh, and you didn't have sex ONCE.  Now, what does that tell you? I'll bet you couldn't get laid, even if you wanted to."  As soon as the words left her mouth, Rachel _knew she had her._

"Fine! I'll take that bet! How much?"

"Twenty dollars."

"Hell no.  FIFTY!"

"Done."

They shook hands, and Monica finally realized what she was getting herself into.

--

"All you have to do is talk to him, and follow his lead!" Phoebe said, trying to get Monica to leave her chair, and go towards the attractive patron that entered the coffeehouse only moments ago.  She had seen him many times before, he was a regular customer, but she had seen so many other girls try and flirt with him, she felt hopeless.

"Yeah, and make a fool out of myself."

"That's the WORST that could happen!" Rachel said, "now go!"

"Okay, okay! I'm going!" Monica said, standing up, and straightening her clothes, "but if he throws coffee on my brand new skirt, I'm making you two pay for it."

"Fine! Stingy..." Rachel muttered under her breath.

"I may have selective hearing, but I'm not deaf." Monica commented, closing the clasp on her necklace, and making the entire congregation of the coffeehouse, minus Phoebe and Rachel, jump slightly.  "Whoops," she whispered, and walked as seductively as she could towards the man at the nearest table, whom a group of girls were gawking at nearby.

"Hi there," Monica said, sitting down.  The man looked up.

"Well, hi," he answered, looking her up and down in one quick glance, "how are you?"

"Wonderful.  And yourself?"

"Great.  Um, who are you?"

"I'm Monica Geller, I live right around here, actually."

"Kyle Sawyer.  Nice to meet you."

Monica felt a little cheesy, using the same pick up lines, as always.  And she was determined to get a date, especially considering the table full of girls was already stealing jealous glances her way.  "So, anything interesting?" she gestured towards the newspaper he was reading.  And she heard his voice in her head.

_I was only pretending to read.  It's a great way to meet girls. _"No, not really.  I was just browsing through it."

It was at this point, that Gunther decided to serve Kyle his coffee.  _Cream, no sugar.__ "Thanks."_

"You like yours black?"

"Nah.  Why?"

"I like mine with cream, and no sugar," she said, smiling, and hoping it would help everything along.

_Oh really? Is that so? _His eyes swept over her again. "Me too.  Say, what do you do?" _Besides look so fine in that top._

Monica had to bite her tongue to keep from whooping with joy.  _I look fine! I look fine! _She sang in her head, and realized she was stalling and not making conversation.  "I'm a chef.  What about you?"

_James Bond by day.__  Pimp by night.  _"I'm a salesman. It's pretty boring, if you ask me."

"Well, I like that in a man."

"Oh yeah?" _Come on, lean over just a little bit more... she did as he hoped she would, and he smiled again.  __Perfect._

"Mm-hmm.  It shows...independence, and integrity." __

_Whoa, easy with the big words. _"Well, you seem pretty independent yourself."

"I suppose.  But I'm getting kind of tired of that.  Aren't you? Oh, wait, I'm sorry, you probably have a girlfriend."

_If I did, I don't think I'd care, looking at YOU. _"Actually, I don't.  I'm free as a bird."

"Oh really?" Monica flashed her pearly whites, and propped her head up by her elbows.

_God, what a body.__  I'd take you home right now, if I wasn't so damn hungry. _"Yeah.  Say, do you feel like going out sometime?"

"I would LOVE that."  _Well, she thought, __in the wise words of Dan Greer, "she shoots, she scores!"_

"Awesome, um - " he paused, as he got out a pen, and wrote on a napkin nearby.  "Here's my number."

"Great.  I'll give you a call." She smiled again, and he merely left his coffee sitting on the table, and grinned again before leaving.  _Yeah, a booty call... was his last thought before he was out of earshot....well....mind-shot.  Monica sighed, looked over at her friends, who were smiling at her, and then over to the group of blondes who were still gaping at her.  She went back over to the couch, pocketing the napkin. "Well, shall we?" Monica said, helping Rachel stand up._

"We shall!" Phoebe exclaimed, linking arms with her, and heading towards the door with Rachel in tow.  As they were about to leave, one of the girls came up to her.

"Wow, that was really something.  The six of us have been trying to land him for EVER!"

Monica smiled brightly again. "Oh, I'm not trying to land him, I'm just using him for sex."

--

"Breath check!" Monica said, extending her hand, in which Rachel placed a peppermint, and Monica promptly popped it into her mouth, and smoothed out her dress.  "How do I look?" She asked, with her mouth partially full.  She spun around, and Rachel gave her the thumbs up.

"That dress, I swear, shows just enough thigh, and just enough cleavage, he's going to spend the entire date wondering what he's missing under there."  She sighed audibly.

"You wanna borrow it?"

Rachel blushed, and looked like she was going to object.  "Can I?" she asked, hopefully, and Monica laughed.

"Sure.  As soon as I score."

"Great, now I'm betting AGAINST getting that dress.  Peachy, just peachy." 

"Well, that's your choice.  CHANDLER!" Monica called out of the room, and heard a response.

"Yes, dearest?" His face appeared at the doorway.

"Chanandaler, daaaaahling," Monica said, with an obvious false British accent, "what do you think?"

"Smashing.  Absolutely smashing." He replied, coming up to her, and giving her a hug.  Rachel looked out of place.

"Well, I'll just be going..." she said, excusing herself to the living room.  Monica turned around, and held out her necklace.

"Will you put this on me?" she asked, smiling playfully.

"Of course.  Anything for my Monipoo." (_A/N: Joey's in-the-box laugh inserted here, for Becca :P_)

"Monipoo?" She raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"Nothing, just, making fun of your creativity again."

"Yeah? Oh, well."  He shut the clasp on the necklace.  "Whoa, what the - ?"

"What is it?"

"The lights just flickered."

"Yeah, it happens occasionally.  Don't worry about it."

"Oh, okay.  Well then, Miss Geller, turn around, so I can see you."  She did as she was told, and she smiled as she heard his thoughts.

"You look - " _Stunning? Angelic? Like a goddess? Practically perfect in every way?  Any other words or cheesy cliché pickup lines come to mind? "Gorgeous."_ Oh, Mon, please don't hurt yourself again.  I can't stand to watch you go through that.  Not again.  Never again. __

Monica put her arms around his waist, and tucked her chin in his neck in a friendly embrace.  Nothing more, nothing less.__

"Thank you," she whispered. _More than you know, __Chandler__..._

"You're welcome." 

_...more than you know._

--

(_A/N: to you offbeat people who won't read partially inappropriate stuff...you can stop reading now, but it's not as bad as I thought it was gonna be when I wrote the A/N at the beginning, and I was too lazy to change it...it's also ridiculously funny because I did a terrible job at conveying the message.  so yeah._)

"So, tell me about yourself." Monica said, a little less comfortably than usual.  She wasn't prone to finding men with relatively normal answers to that question nowadays.  Dinner was over, and so was the movie.  It was time for conversation, and Monica was determined not to let him get bored.

"Well, I'm in sales, as I told you, and I like to hang about with my friends, go to parties, and all sorts of stuff."  He leaned back on the sofa, as she took the lapse in conversation to glance around his apartment.  It showed nothing of who he was.  No posters, no decor.  Nothing.  Everything was boring.  _But...I haven't seen his bedroom..._

"Sounds fun."

"Sure, if you like that kind of stuff." 

"I do.  I do, very much." She smiled at him, and pulled her legs in closer to her.  She shifted her weight so she could look at him, and he noticed, because she felt his eyes on her.  _Good God, I can't take it anymore.  Kiss her, touch her, screw her brains out, do SOMETHING!!! _He thought, and she smiled.  "Oh, I can't take it anymore!" she said, more than willing to revel in his request, and she promptly kissed him on the mouth.  _That's my kind of woman! GRR! He kissed her back, hungrily, and she wrapped her arms around him.  __Yeah, I just hope you can put up with my addiction.  She moaned softly.  __My SEX addiction.  Clothes were merely a thing of the past for the two of them, and once they began, they didn't stop.  Monica threaded her fingers through his hair, as he bent his head to taste her breasts, and his hands preceded his lips, in eager anticipation.  She arched her back, and grabbed on to the nearest object, the wooden leg of the coffee table, to release her tension, as he descended, and won her over in the best way possible.  His thoughts wandered, as she noticed that he didn't necessarily concentrate on what he was doing, when he was pleasing her, but rather, on what he hoped she would do to him.  When she began to reciprocate, his brain shut off all external thought except for the sensations she was bringing to him, and he telepathically let her know what he wanted.__  A little to the left.  Oh, just a bit harder.  Perfect.  Every thought he had was focused on what was going on inside him.  When at last, he told her he was ready, they joined at their most intimate places, and carried on far into the night._

Her last conscious thought before sleeping was, _I still didn't see his bedroom._

-----

_A/N: How was THAT for tasteful? HUH? Mwahahhahahahhahahahahaha.  It would have been better, but I don't know how far to go, before freaking people out.  So...I'm sorry to disappoint you people, because it wasn't long, either.  I don't know.  I think I messed up with the whole attitude of this guy.  *shrugs* let me know what you thought! And I'm being really serious! If you think it sucked, TELL ME! I WANT TO KNOW! ...but of course, compliments would be BETTER, but who am I to complain?_


	4. Poetry and Taxi Cabs

What Men Want

_by Monnie_

Chapter Four

_A/N: Okay, I took WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY too long with the update, but, you'll forgive me, right? I hope so.  This story isn't actually going to be that long, because I have something else in mind that I'd like to start, and, well, this wasn't going to be that long in the first place.  I did a terrible job at conveying the message of the last guy, so I improvised, and this is what I came up with...read on..._

-----

Waking from a deep sleep, Monica rolled over, and found herself slipping off of the sofa, and on to the thin carpeted floor with a thud.  She squeaked slightly, when she made contact with the ground, and rubbed her side, standing up, and feeling all the blood rush to her head.  

_Well, that was the world's shortest date, _she thought, glancing around to see that the apartment she had spent the night in was completely deserted.  The clock in the kitchen read one o'clock.  She had slept late.  _Eh, I just want to go home, this place creeps me out.  It's so bland.  And - oh...? she eyed the door in the back of the apartment, _is that his bedroom?_ She grinned, and headed towards it.  _

Opening the door, she found it to be uninhabited as well, except, it looked _very lived in.  Objects were strewn about, he had clothes laid about the room, the bed wasn't made, and his dresser was covered in different objects, all of which weren't in any kind of order.  Monica shivered; __if I had known that I was going to spend the night in an apartment that looked like this...I don't think I would have spent the night. _

She stepped over whatever she could, to get to the other side of the room, and pulled on one of the halfway opened drawers.  It fell to the floor with a crash, and she winced, her eyes shutting, until the person she was _sure would pop out of nowhere had retreated back into her paranoid thoughts.  Glancing down through the fingers she hand placed over her eyes, she saw what he had been keeping.  _

There was an entire collection of pornographic magazines cluttering the unit that had fallen from the dresser, and she looked up to see that every other drawer in the dresser was no different, with the exception of the bottom left drawer, which contained nothing but videos, and the bottom right drawer, which contained nothing but assorted condoms.  _Euwww! A porno-freak! And a messy, disgusting one at that! _

She proceeded to flee from the room, and grabbed her purse and shoes, preparing herself to leave.  It was then that she noticed a piece of paper sitting on the kitchen table.  She picked it up, and glanced over it.  Written, in barely legible handwriting, was a note from Kyle.

_Monica,_

_Thanks for last night.  It was fun.  I'll call you._

_- Kyle_

It looked like it had been rewritten several times.  Grinning, she set it down, and looked up at the refrigerator.  There, tacked on it, was a fleet of post-it notes, each with a different phone number on it.  Rolling her eyes in amusement, she headed towards the door.  As soon as she was about to leave, she turned around, and spoke to no one in particular. 

"Bye Kyle.  You're a dirty, dirty man, and I hope you know that I never did give you _my_ number."

--

"Mon, he was so cute, though!" Rachel exclaimed, flabbergasted that Monica came back to the apartment relieved that she didn't have to see that man again.

"You know what, Rach? I'll give you his number, and _you_ can call him."

"Okay!" Rachel then became very grateful, and laughed in triumph when Monica handed over the napkin that had his digits on it.

"But, Mon, what was so wrong with him?" Phoebe asked, leaning back on the sofa, as the other two joined her.

Monica sat down. "You know how some guys don't like to give gifts?" She asked, and Phoebe nodded, "well, it was like that, except, it was with sex, and on top of everything else, his bedroom was messy and full of porn."

"Wow," Phoebe shook her head, "you might as well have gone out with Joey."

Monica considered for a moment. "You know, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but Joey is probably cleaner."

"Whoa," both girls' eyes got wide, and Monica grimaced.

"I know.  But Joey would rather go out with - " Monica then covered her mouth. _Whoops. Shut up, Monica._

"With who?" Rachel asked, smiling at her friend's slip of the tongue.

"Nobody," Monica stated simply, and stood up again, "I need to go get ready for Joey's play thing."

"But, Mon, the play's not for another five hours." Phoebe pointed out, and Monica laughed nervously.

"Heh. So it is," she laughed again, and sat back down.

Phoebe then piped up. "Okay, Mon...you've gone out with a sports freak, a weird guy, and a sexaholic.  You know what I think you need to do?"

"Hmm?" Monica raised her eyebrows.

Rachel caught on. "You need to find a sensitive guy.  Not some jock, or some weirdo, but a _genuine_ sensitive guy."

"How will I know if he's sensitive, and not just gay?"

"Oh, you'll know," Phoebe interjected, "_you'll know._"

"How?"

"You'll feel it. Y'know, on your hip." She winked, and Monica just shook her head.

"Or maybe you just need an honest guy," Rachel suggested.

"That might work." Phoebe agreed, "Find someone who speaks his mind.  And this way, you'll know if he really _is."_

"Okay, then.  I'll look around at Joey's play tonight.  But, I still have one thing." Monica remembered.

"What is it?"

"You owe me fifty bucks, Rachel."

"How do I know that you had sex?"

"Well, I can safely tell you that if you go over there any time soon, you'll find a particularly flattened piece of carpet right in front of the sofa."

"You didn't - "

"_Oh, but we_ did_." Monica grinned mischievously, "and there's another patch in front of the TV, and there are smudges on the coffee table, and the kitchen table - "_

"But you said you didn't have any fun, Monica." Phoebe grinned.

"Oh, I had fun.  There are no doubts about that, it's just, I had to do a bit myself, is all."

"Like what?" Rachel asked, grinning.

"Like - hey! I'm not going to go into detail about my sex life like this!" She protested, and received a skeptical look from _both_ of the other girls.  "Yeah, so, it was like our second time, right? Anyway..."

--

Phoebe, Rachel, and Monica were the last to arrive at the small theater, and they took their spare moment before the lights went down, to scan the room for possible dates.  Not seeing anyone who stood out, they gave up, and decided to wait for intermission, and found the two men they came with sitting in one of the middle rows, attempting to wave them down.  They all sat down together, Chandler on the end, followed by Monica, Rachel, Ross, and then Phoebe on the other end.  Monica had chosen to wear her necklace; she wanted to know what actors were _really thinking as they were performing.  She grinned as she thought about what Joey had said before, and wondered if other actors were any different.  A few moments later, the house lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone on the center of the stage.  Joey, who was only halfway in the spotlight, sidled over, and grinned into the audience._

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, and cleared his throat, "tonight we have a thrilling play put together, to uh - " _whoa, _Monica heard him think, _is that Phoebe in the back row? Geez.  What a knockout..._ "Uh - dazzle and mesmerize you with the talents and skills of these Shakespearean actors and actresses.  Now, without further ado, I present to you - " _what's the name? Crap, that one hamburger play...uh - _"Macbeth!" _Hey, they're applauding, you must've gotten it.  Get off the stage! Joey flashed another smile, and sidled out of the way. Meanwhile, in the back, Monica leaned over to Chandler, and spoke out of the side of her mouth._

"Isn't it supposed to be _A Midsummer Night's Dream?" she asked.  Chandler nodded._

"Yeah, but this audience doesn't know Shakespeare from shinola."

"You got _that right." Monica giggled, and leaned back in her chair._

--

"I had no judgment, when to her I swore!" Joey, playing Lysander, said, staring at the ceiling as if he were looking for something.

"Nor none, in my mind, now you giver her o'er," said the actress playing Helena.

Monica scooted closer to Chandler, and leaned her head up against his shoulder.  He put his arm around her, and she rested her hand on his thigh, in a friendly gesture, intently eyeing the stage.  She was amazed at how wonderfully he was doing at his part.  But Chandler wasn't watching the play, he was watching Monica.  He couldn't help but smile every time her eyes lit up when she laughed.  It amazed him, and he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her.

_Beautiful,_ he thought, watching her brush a strand of hair out of her azure eyes.

"I know, isn't it?" she whispered, snuggling closer, and he shot her a nervous glance.

"W-what?"

"Joey's play. It's beautiful."

"Oh, y-yeah, beautiful," Chandler looked at her again.  _What in the world?_

Monica looked up.  Had she been reading his mind again? She squeezed his thigh gently, and his grip on her seemed to tighten.  She relaxed, and so did he.  It was as if he was waiting for her to do something, before he did anything himself.  She found it flattering, and she stifled a giggle, as she glanced around the room.  She met the eyes of a young man sitting in the front row, who was looking at her, and he tore his eyes away from her, to look up at the stage.  It was then she noticed that he was mouthing the words along with them.  _Is he the director?_ she thought.  _But then, wouldn't he be back stage?_

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, with a powerful speech from Demetrius. 

"...goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!

To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?

Crystal is muddy.  O, how ripe in show

Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!

That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow

Fanned with the eastern wind, turns to a crow

When thou hold'st up thy hand: O let me kiss

This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!"

Monica glanced up; Chandler had spoken those words aloud.  Softly, but she knew he was speaking them.  Just as she grinned and looked forward, he glanced downward. _ If only you knew, Monica...if only you knew._

--

"Joey! That was _awesome!" Everyone was extremely enthusiastic afterwards; they had never seen him do such a wonderful job._

"You really think so?"

"Yeah!" Phoebe agreed, "you know, normally, I'd be lying, but this one was actually magnificent! You should do this more often!"

"Wow, you guys, I didn't know you were so impressed." Joey's smile widened.

"Definitely!" They all agreed.

"Oh, and Monica," Rachel tapped her on the shoulder, "there was a guy sitting in the front, checking you out, like, the whole play!"

"Really?" Monica smiled, and Joey pouted, disappointed that the attention was drawn from him.

"Oh yeah, you should go talk to him!" Phoebe told her.

"Okay!" Monica squeaked, in typical Monica-fashion.  

Rachel then elbowed Phoebe in the side. "How come she always gets the guys?"

"I dunno!" Phoebe's expression changed from that of happiness to jealousy, everything finally coming together in her mind, "she's tricky, that one."

"I suppose _so." Rachel clucked her tongue, and they went back to congratulating Joey, while Chandler watched his best friend stride as seductively as she could over to another man he was sure would treat her just as the others had: terribly._

--

"Hey there," Monica said, as the man, whom Monica finally confirmed as attractive, looked up from his program.  She met his green eyes and smiled.  He had freckles covering his face, and his hair was bright red.  He looked sensitive enough.

_Wow_, was the first thought that went through his mind. "Hi," was the first thing that came out his mouth.

"Uh – " she stuck out her hand, "I'm Monica."

"Bryan."  

"How are you?"

_A little teary-eyed, but otherwise okay..._ "Great! And yourself?"

"Awesome.  So, what did you think of the play?"

"Oh, it was - " he blinked hard, and wiggled his nose, "it was – really great." _Left me nearly weeping.___

"Yeah, I thought so, too. You know, my friend Joey was actually playing Lysander!"

"Really? He's got some real talent." _Oh, please don't think I'm gay, please don't think I'm gay –_

"I know.  Um - "

"Listen," he interrupted, and launched into another cheesy pick up routine. 

--

"Did you say yes?" Ross asked, as the six of them were heading out to their taxis.

"Of course I said yes! I've been asked out by FOUR guys in the last two weeks! I must be looking awfully good." 

She grinned when both Chandler _and_ Joey thought, _oh yeahhh. _"Of course, Mon," Chandler assured her, patting her on the back, as he helped her into the cab, and climbed in himself.  Rachel, Phoebe, and Ross went in another taxi, and Joey stayed behind to attend a cast party.

"Don't have too much fun without us!" Phoebe called out to him, as the cabs were pulling away from the curb.

"I won't!" Joey called back.  

Monica rolled her window up, and sighed contentedly.  Glancing over at Chandler, and he nodded, and she laid her head down in his lap, looking up at him. "Wow," she whispered, and smiled broadly, "what a night."

"Yeah, it really was," Chandler said, without thinking and she gave him a look, before they both broke into song.

"Such a night..." They sang in unison, "the moon was bright oh how so bright...It was - it really was such a night...The night was alight with stars above...Ooh when she kissed me...I had to fall in love..." And they burst into laughter, before repeating the chorus of one of their favorite Elvis songs.

--

Monica ran out of her room, clad in a short blue dress and white heels, her hair pulled back, and her makeup barely visible.  She flew by the bathroom, glancing at her reflection, and picked up her purse on the way out the door.  She prayed her necklace was in her purse, or that he was a _very_ honest man.

--

"So, Monica," Brian drawled, after their drinks had been ordered, and Monica had finally found her necklace hiding at the bottom of her bag, "What is it that makes you smile?"

"Me? Well, to be perfectly honest - "

"Oh? I like honesty."

"No, I wasn't finished."

"I know."

"Oh. Well, it's probably whenever I'm cooking - " she paused as he stared at her, smiling, "or when I feel uncomfortable," she remarked, grinning, and feeling herself blush.

"Oh, sorry," he smiled again, "It's just, you have the most _beautiful_ eyes."

"Thank you."

"Do you mind if I write a poem about them?"

"Um," Monica blushed again, "I guess so - "

"Great!" he exclaimed, a little too excitedly.  He pulled out a notepad and a pen from the breast pocket of his shirt, and flipped it open.  Monica flinched as he cleared his throat loudly, and all heads at the tables around them turned to see what the fuss was about. "Monica's eyes, so blue, it makes me – " he paused as he wrote, "it makes me – want to look at you - " more writing, "um, uh - " he began to stare at her again, "So pretty, are your eyes – like a – like a – mermaid!" scribbles, "in disguise!" He wrote it down, and looked content, before glancing up, and meeting her eyes, which changed from concern to false appreciation before he could register what was going on.  The patrons around them all seemed to roll their eyes at the same time, and went back to dining.  "What do you think?" he asked at last.

"It was - " _Oh, good God, woman, think of SOMETHING – _"poetic." _That was the lamest thing I think you could have said in that situation. Great job._

"R-really?!" He seemed to get teary eyed, and she tried not to look embarrassed.

"But in a good way!" She reassured him.

"Oh, I know, it's just - " he took a shuddering breath, that elicited giggles from a young couple nearby, "I get so emotional when people compliment my work, I - " another breath, "I'm sorry..." he pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes in an unmistakably homosexual manner.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Monica asked, and he nodded from behind his tears.  She stood up, and heard people snickering behind her as she bolted towards the bathroom.  When she got into the ladies' room, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse, and called the first person she could think of.  Three rings.

_Pick up, damn you!_

"Hello?"

_Finally.__ "Chandler?"_

"Mon? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine.  It's just – I'm on a date with Teary McWeeperson, and I HAVE to get out of here!"

"Okay, expect me in about five minutes."

"Thank you, sweetheart!"

"Anytime babe.  Now, shoo."

"Going!" They hung up, and Monica glanced skyward, before taking a deep breath and heading back out to the table.

--

"I can't believe he cried!" Chandler exclaimed, when they had found themselves in the safety of a taxi cab outside of the restaurant.  Chandler had strode in, picking a fight with Monica, claiming to be her boyfriend, and took her out of the café, resulting in an extremely emotional protest from Bryan.

"I can't believe he bought it that we were going out!" Monica said, in the same tone.

"I kn – hey! Why isn't that believable?" Chandler looked taken aback.

"Because, well, y'know – you're – you're you! And, I dunno..."

"Am I not good enough to be your boyfriend?" He asked.  She met his gaze; he was serious.

"It's – no, it's nothing.  Okay? I promise. Of course it's believable."

"Yeah, it had better be." He seemed content, but he scowled anyway, and leaned back on the seat.  She leaned over and put a finger under his chin, tilting it towards her.

"I'm serious, Chandler.  You're my hero for doing this.  Thank you."

"You're welcome."  She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he smiled as she leaned her head on his shoulder again.  

_The most comfortable place in the world._

--

"Okay, I know you keep getting the guys, but I still have to tell you this!" Phoebe exclaimed, running into the apartment as Rachel turned off the phone on accident, and Monica nearly dropped the bowl she was stirring her cake batter in.

"What is it, Phoebe?" Monica asked, coming closer, as Rachel groaned, and picked up the napkin to redial the number.

"I found your perfect guy!"

"What?"

"Your perfect guy! I swear, he's your soul mate!"

"Really?! That's so exciting!" Monica set down the bowl, and walked over to hug her friend.  Rachel just scowled, and then smiled as the person she was calling finally picked up.  "Well, what's he like?" Monica took Phoebe by the hand, and led her over to the couch.

"Well, his name is Robert."

"And he goes by Robert?"

"Yes, and NOT Bobby."

_Gah_.___ 'Fun' Bobby. NOT a walk in the park, Monica recalled, reliving the memories of her alcoholic ex-boyfriend. "Good to know." A look of relief spread across Monica's face._

Phoebe smiled. "Uh-huh, and he's tall, and he's got brown hair, and, oh – he's British!"

"No WAY!"

"Way!" 

Monica couldn't stop touching her, she was so excited. "Really? Wow, so when can I meet this guy?"

"Whenever you want!"

"This is so awesome!"

"Yeah! And now I don't have to worry about you flirting with all these other guys anymore!"

"I KNOW!" Monica paused, "wait..."

"Sorry, I just had to let it out."

Monica rolled her eyes, and they both finally heard Rachel's conversation on the phone.

"Uh-huh! I'd love to meet you at the Four Seasons!" She listened as someone spoke, "uh-huh. Seven o'clock. I'll be there! Great. Thanks, Kyle. Talk to you later!" Click.

"You're going out with Kyle?" Monica asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Rachel smiled. "Yeah, uh huh – tomorrow night."

"You dirty girl!" Phoebe stuck her tongue out, and Rachel reciprocated.

"Oh well," Monica gave up, and decided to congratulate her friend instead, "somebody's gonna get laid tonight!" She sang, and Rachel whooped, as they all did a conga line out into the kitchen.

-----

_hope__ you guys can still forgive me *makes begging eyes* xx monnie_


	5. The Cliché and the Misguided Arse

What Men Want

by Monnie

_A/N: Yeah, I know what you're going to say: FINALLY! I wanted to update this exactly a month from the last one, because it wouldn't have been updated, like, at all, if I didn't, because I'm neurotic like that. But it's okay, cause this is the end. Aww, time to say goodbye to What Men Want.  Just go out and rent the Mel Gibson movie if it bothers you that much. I have another idea that I'm starting to develop, so that's going on my to-do list.  No guarantees that I'll be updating as often as I used to.  It might even be this spaced out.  I haven't a clue.  We'll just have to wait and see! Thank you SO much for the reviews, you guys.  You make my spirit whole!  And in honour of that, this chapter is EXTRA long. So, in a way, it's SuperSize Friends! :) Yeah, that was lame, I know..._

_"turn around, bright eyes…" that song has been stuck in my head ALL DAY LONG.  "…ooooo, a total eclipse of the heart…" _

_…what? You don't want me serenading you with my beautiful *hack* voice? Eh, your loss.  Fine, here's your STORY.  *huff*  …I LOVE YOU GUYS ANYWAY! :)_

_Mini Disclaimer: There's this awesome line.  I wish it were mine.  Wow, poetry.  Sezzy..._

-----

"Mon! You're gonna be late again!" Phoebe called from the living room, as Monica took two steps out of her bathroom and glared at her.  Phoebe attempted to look serious, but it was troubling her because of the state her friend was in.  Monica had on a black slip that came down to her thighs, knee high pantyhose, one shoe on, a towel around her head, and a toothbrush in her mouth. "Okay," Phoebe put her hands up, "I'm sorry, I was kidding."

Monica rolled her eyes, and pulled the toothbrush out of her mouth.  She strained to speak, because she was trying not to swallow her toothpaste. "I can't believe you set me up on a blind date." Phoebe stifled another giggle as the towel began to fall.

"I can.  You wanted to meet this guy, right?"

Monica nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"And you'll probably want to date him?"

"Yeah."

"So why not spare you both the effort and get them both done at the same time?"

Monica held up a finger, before turning around and spitting her toothpaste out.  "I guess you have a point," she called from inside, and pulled her towel off her head.  Her damp hair fell in clumps around her face, and she grimaced as she noticed something in her reflection. "Of all the times," she groaned, examining her face.

"What is it?" Phoebe came into the bathroom.

"I have a zit," she sighed.

"Oh, you do? I didn't even notice."

Monica stared at her. "You lie SO badly."

"No, I'm serious.  You can barely see it."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Monica looked pleased. "Okay."

"Ooh, what's this?" Phoebe picked up a long chain next to the sink on the counter.

"The necklace."

"Oh! The mind-reader necklace?"

"That's the one."

"Can I?" she held it up.

"You MAY." Monica replied.  Phoebe ignored the obvious correction, and slipped the chain around her neck.  She fastened it, and the usual flicker of lights made Phoebe jump slightly.  Monica, however, was thoroughly used to it. She finished drying her hair, as Phoebe admired herself in the mirror, and ventured out into the living room.  "Don't go too far," Monica warned, "I don't want to lose that baby, especially tonight."

"You are so damned lucky to have this, you know that?" called Phoebe, stepping back into the bathroom.

"Yeah, I know." She paused. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry I've been so flirty lately. I know I've probably come off as a slut or something -"

"Oh, sweetie -"

"No, I agree. I've been pretty slutty.  I've just been – well, I've been trying out the necklace, and it seems to have gotten the best of me.  And I'm sorry.  If tonight doesn't go well, I'm going to swear off the 'seeing random guys' thing, at least for a while.  It's probably for the best."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you!" Phoebe smiled, and pulled her into a hug.  At that precise moment, Joey stepped into sight.

"Oh MY," he said, leering perversely.

"Shut up, Joey!" they said together.  He continued to stare at them, smiling.  Suddenly, Phoebe whipped around and glared at him.

"We said SHUT UP!" she said, sternly.

"I did!"

"No you didn't! You just said that y -" she glanced over at Monica, who was beaming.  "Oh!" she said, in typical Phoebe fashion, her expression changing, "sorry Joey."

"S'okay." He looked like he was sulking, until he shot her a double take and smiled again.  Monica noticed a hint of pink rush to his cheeks as he turned heel; he took one last glance at Monica before he left.  An open-mouthed Phoebe turned around to look at her friend.

"Oh – my – GOD!" she breathed, "I mean, I always knew Joey was perverted, but this is just TOO FAR."

"I know, right?" Monica nodded her head frantically.

"Did you hear him?" She asked with widened eyes.

"No, but I can imagine.  What'd he say?"

"Well, first, when we told him to shut up, he was saying something like 'you know, if you're lesbians, it's really okay. I don't mind.''"

Monica rolled her eyes. "What about after that?"

"Oh, he thought you looked 'stop eatin' hot' in that black slip."

"Charming," Monica remarked, sarcastically.

"Yeah, and um – last question: does Joey have a crush on me?"

"Noooooooo."

"Really? Cause he said he had a crush on me."

"Yeah, he does." Monica grinned sheepishly.

Phoebe hit her on the arm. "How could you not tell me?!"

"Well, I didn't tell you.  I think that would accomplish the not telling."

"You know what I mean, Monica Vellula Geller," she admonished her sharply.

"My middle name is NOT Vellula!"

"Well, it WAS when you bought that BED!" Phoebe commented with a triumphant laugh.

"YOU signed for it!"

Phoebe's smile froze. "Oh." She was quiet for a moment, before shaking herself internally. "Hey! Don't get off topic!"

"Who's off topic?" Monica continued to avoid the question for another two minutes.

"Okay, you listen Monica – whatever your name is – you are going to listen, and you are going to listen good.  Now, you'd better tell me what's going on RIGHT NOW, or -"

The phone rang.  Phoebe looked like she was about to kill.

Monica grinned and picked it up. "Hello?" she listened on the phone, "oh? What's up?"

Meanwhile, Joey was across the hall, on the other end of the line, panicked.  "I heard you guys over there yelling, and it sounds like she was trying to get you to tell her about my you-know-what."

"Uh y-yeah," stuttered Monica, trying to cover for the fact that she had already told her, and was just attempting to get out of the doghouse.

"Do you need me to bail you out?"

"Yes, please!" Monica smiled.

"Okay, then tell her that I need you for something."

"Will do. See ya." She hung up the phone. "That was Joey," she told Phoebe, "he has a crisis, and I'll be back later – maybe," She added as an afterthought.  Monica flashed her another smile, and ran as quickly as she could across the hall, though it was difficult to maneuver with only one shoe on.  Phoebe followed her as quietly as she could, and when Joey opened the door, she darted into the apartment before Monica could.

"Ha! You're trapped!" Phoebe said triumphantly, and Monica just stared at her.

"I have my own apartment, you know." She stuck her tongue out, playfully, and shut the door, scampering back across the hall and locking herself in her own apartment.  Joey and Phoebe were left alone, both staring at the Magna Doodle on the back of the door, which read '_Honesty is the Best Policy'.  They looked at each other, blushing slightly, and stood in an awkward silence.  Joey decided to speak first, a moment later._

"I have a confession to make."

Phoebe gave him the brightest smile she could remember giving anyone in a long time.

--

"How do I look?" Monica spun around, looking to the cab driver for support.  He merely rolled his eyes, and drove off.  She watched him leave in disbelief.  "And THAT, my friend, is why I didn't pay the whole fare." She smiled, "oops!" And with that, she turned around and prepared to enter the restaurant.  Inhaling deeply, she pulled her purse onto her shoulder, flicked her hair out of her face, ran her tongue over her teeth, smoothed out her black dress, and exhaled.  Two steps to the door of one of her favorite restaurants, Javu.  It had always been her dream to work there.  Opening the door, she closed her eyes briefly, and spoke to herself in her head.

_Just relax, _she thought, _you're going to be fine.  Okay, now – she looked around the room, _he said he was going to be wearing a – a – what was it? A red flower? No, he was going to HAVE a red flower, not WEAR it._ Her eyes darted from table to table, until they landed on a man at the far side of the restaurant, who had a beautiful rose on the table in front of him.  He was sitting alone.  She smiled, and took a few steps towards him.  His face was about to come into focus, when he put up his menu.  Monica immediately stopped to wait, so she could see his face, but every time he looked up, something would pass in front of him, and she couldn't see whether or not he was the person she was looking for.  After nearly a minute, she decided to give up, and walked all the way over to the table.  She instinctively put her hand to her neck, to make sure her necklace was on, and she then plastered on a smile._

"Robert?" she asked, approaching the edge.

"Yes?" He lowered his menu, and looked up, and Monica felt her breath catch in her throat.  He was probably the dreamiest guy she'd ever known in real life.  He had short brown hair, dark eyes, and the most amazing figure.  He looked well built.  She stood and stared at him in admiration for a few seconds, before she realized she was stalling.

"U-um, hi," she extended her hand, "I'm Monica.  Phoebe's friend?" _You know, that girl who I now worship?_

"Oh, yes. Hello." He took her hand in his, and kissed it gently.  She smiled, and met his eyes again.  "Won't you join me?"

"Of course!" Monica then realized she had been standing there like an idiot, and tried to recompose herself.  Robert stood up and pulled out her chair for her, and set her napkin in her lap, without even a word.  Monica found it incredibly polite of him.  She then hung her purse on the back of the chair, and the waiter came up to take their orders.

--

Half an hour later, Monica was just starting into her dessert, when Robert brought up an interesting, but potentially dangerous topic of discussion.

"So," he started, smiling, "do you like me?"

"Do I like you?" she repeated, stalling.  Sure, she liked him.  She thought he was amazing since he glanced up from his menu only half an hour ago.  They had so much in common, she discovered, and he was as charming as she could imagine.  He seemed –

- perfect, for lack of a better word.  Too perfect.  In fact, there was some kind of flaw she knew was there, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"That's what I asked."

"Well -" _how am I supposed to respond to that? If I tell him 'yes', he'll think I'm easy.  If I tell him 'no', he'll never want to see me again. _"I think so."_ Nice save.  No trap – no rejection. Booyah._

"Good." He smiled.

"Do you like ME?" She retorted.

"I think so," he mocked, and she grinned.

"Good." _Score one for me!_

They returned to eating.  As she took another bite of her fudge cake, he glanced up at her, and thought, _too bad I have to go back to England for good tomorrow._

Monica suddenly found it very difficult to breathe.

Hey eyes wide, she put her hand to her throat, her fork dropping to her plate.  Robert's eyes shifted from seduction to concern.

"Oh my God, Monica, are you choking?"

She shook her head violently, trying to play it off.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.  

Another nod.  Monica coughed, and swallowed hard.  She took a long drink from her glass, and gasped, then blinked, as if she were trying to bring the room back into focus.  "Yeah, I'm sorry."

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, I just -" deep breath, "I need to go to the ladies' room.  Would you excuse me?" _Dammit, why do I keep using this excuse over and over again? It's silly – but practical._

"Of course." He stood up when she did.

_So polite… I hate that. _"Thank you." She tried to walk as coolly as she could away from the table, but inside – inside she was jelly.  The bathroom was unoccupied, and she fell straight against the sink, shaking and gasping, both from the incident, and the news.  Her face looked pale, and she stood up straight, trying to stop her tears from coming.  She inhaled deeply, and closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.  _He's leaving?_ she asked her reflection.  Another deep breath.  _Okay, head up, Monica.  You're gonna be fine. Just finish the date, and go home.  That's all._ Another breath. _Let's go._ She smiled falsely, and attempted to fix her appearance.  Flicking her hair out of her eyes, she noticed that one of her earrings was missing.  She glanced around the bathroom. Nothing. "That's weird," she said aloud, then jumped at the sound of her own voice.  She took a step out the door. _Where the heck did it go?_ Her eyes followed the floor pattern.  There, a few feet to her right, underneath a table, something was glinting silver. _Aha!_ Not really caring who was watching, she reached behind her, gathered her dress up, and squatted down.  She took a couple slow steps forward, trying to stay out of sight of the couple who was chatting over the table she was about to venture under, so not to disturb them, whoever they were.  She hadn't seen their faces.  She reached out to grab it.  The woman above her was talking non-stop, and the man visibly shifted.  He then started thinking, and Monica froze where she was.

God, how BORING can you be?! I wish Mon were here.  We'd be having a good time, at least.  Let alone the fact that I think I'm in love with her.  Whoa, did I just think that?

It was Chandler.

Monica clapped her hand over her mouth, and shot up, her head slamming straight into the wooden underside of the table above her.  She recoiled, hardly able to see, the pain was numbing, something broke, someone jumped, and someone screamed.  Monica fell backwards, sprawling on the carpet in front of the table, but somehow remembering to close her legs.  Two heads peered over the edge of the table, and down at her.  One of them belonged to Chandler, and the other – well, the other belonged to a woman who reminded her of Elle MacPherson.  She was shocked.  _Wow, not only is this woman on a date with CHANDLER, of all people, but Chandler finds her BORING, and he'd rather be with me!_ She could've danced.  

However, given  the circumstances, Monica pushed 'dancing' further down on her To Do list.  She then settled for smiling weakly up at the woman she now felt superior to, and the man who was staring at her like she'd just won a beauty pageat, not humiliated herself in front of a restaurant full of people.  At this point, though, Monica didn't care if her whole incident was caught on tape and broadcast across the United States.  Chandler thought she was BETTER than that Elle MacPherson wannabe.  

_She's not even that pretty, really._  "Hi," said Monica, unnecissarily.

"Hi," he responded, raising an eyebrow.  She expected him to comment, but he didn't.  In fact, he didn't even think about it.  They both looked at each other for a minute, before Chandler's date broke the silence.

"Well, I'd better be going," she said, picking up her purse, and scooting out of the booth they were seated in.

"Why?" Chandler snapped out of the trance-like state he was in.

"Because of – the -" she stammered, "- cause um – the – the other – y'know – thing, yeah…" her voice trailed off, and she muttered something he couldn't understand, and by the time he thought to open his mouth to say something, she was gone.  He visibly blushed, and glanced down at his best friend, who was still watching him with a sympathetic expression on her face.

"Sweetheart, if you help me up, I give KILLER hugs," she said.  He mentally shook himself, and reached over and helped her up and into his arms.  Had they been a couple, she would have kissed him.  And as soon as that thought went through her mind, she wondered, _why the hell not?_  "Do you -" Monica started, then changed her mind.

"Do I what?"

"Do you want to get out of here?" she whispered.

"I would love to," he whispered back, relieved.

"Great, let me just go pay my half of this date."

"Wha – what date?"

"You didn't think I came dressed like this alone, did you?"

"No, but I figured that -"

"Chandler, I'd rather go home and sulk with you all evening over our horrible love lives, than spend it with some British chippy who's going to dump me in the morning for a Yoko Ono lookalike from Liverpool."

"I don't know where in God's name you found that example, but you have a hell of a way of cheering me up."

"It's a gift." She smiled, and he reciprocated.  It was in that second, that she realized what Robert's flaw was.

He wasn't Chandler.

He was just another guy.  Another random guy that was out to break her heart, and call again a week later, hoping to get lucky.  She wasn't about to be someone's "Racquetball Buddy".  And it was horribly cliché, but, then again, that's what life is, isn't it?

She gave Chandler another hug, and they separated.  She crossed thr room while Chandler paid both halves of an originally Dutch date.  Approaching the table again, Robert now had his nose in the daily paper.  He glanced up, and Monica suddenly noticed the fact that the flutter she got in her stomach when he looked at her was gone.

"Did you pick that up while I was in the ladies' room?" She inquired, seriously.

"No, why would you think that?"

"Don't get off the subject! Now, the point is, you're going back to England tomorrow, and you didn't bother to tell me!"

The entire restaurant had now stopped what they were doing to watch.  _Kind of like dinner theatre_, Monica idly thought, though she was more focused on the conversation at hand.

"Wha – who told you that?!"

"Um -" _dammit, I should've come prepared!_ "Ph-Phoebe -" she stuttered, "c-called me, while I was in the bathroom, and – and TOLD ME what you'd done." She gained more confidence, "Did you think I was some kind of cheap date? Because, I tell you something, Bobby -"

"Robert -" he corrected.

"- whatever, I am NOT, and I repeat, am NOT a cheap date."

"I – I don't know what to say, Monica."

"How about 'sorry', for starters."

"I'm – I'm sorry." He looked almost irritated.  She glanced over at the window to the restaurant.  Chandler was smiling at her.

"Now, I don't know how you British folk work, but, around here, it takes a HELL of a lot more than a cup of coffee, and a plate of chow, to get a sophisticated woman like me into the sack." She straightened herself up triumphantly, then added, "THAT"S for damn sure."

Stunned, Robert sat gaping at her, as Monica Geller turned her heel and walked right out of the restaurant, accompanied by mad applause from the females who were dining there.

--

"Should I even ask what you said to him?" Chandler asked, grinning, when the cab had finally gotten away from Javu.

"Probably not."

"Then I won't."

Silence.

"Aw CRAP!" shouted Monica, looking into her purse with distaste.

"What?"

"I left my earring on the floor of the restaurant."

"No, don't worry. I got it." He pulled it out of his pocket, and handed it to her.

"Oh, thanks," she said, as she was putting it on.

"Oh, and I found this, as well -" He pulled out a long silver chain, and held it in front of her, "is it yours?"

"Um, yeah," she grinned.  _So that's why I couldn't – _

"Here, let me put it on you." He reached forward, but she put her hand up, smiling.

"No.  Don't worry about it." She gently took it from his hands, and put it in her purse.

--

"So, what's up?" He asked, as the cab was at a near stand still in traffic.  Chandler leaned back in his seat.

"Not much.  Just bummed out about being alone again."

"You don't need to worry about that.  You'll find someone."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Okay, well, where have YOU found someone?"

He met her eyes. "Maybe you're not looking in the right place."

They then suddenly became aware of the song playing on the radio station.  He shot her a look that clearly stated, _that's cliché for ya_, though she never heard him think it.  Monica smiled.  And, when she thought the cliché couldn't be more so, she found herself being pulled into a long, sweet kiss.  A genuine one.  The kind she hadn't found in the sports fanatic, or the weirdo.  The kind she hadn't found in the dirty sexaholic, the sensitive guy, or even in the ideal man's man.  She'd found it in Chandler.  Funny, sweet, commitment phobic Chandler.  The Chandler that was now having an effect on her she never thought he'd have.  It was hard to comprehend, for Monica, that in all the time she'd spent in his arms, supposedly in or out of love with one of those random guys, she'd never known the secret thoughts of the most comfortable place in the world.
    
    _It was a night oo-oo what a night_
    
    _It was it really was such a night_
    
    _The moon was bright oh how so bright_
    
    _It was it really was such a night_
    
    _The night was alight with stars above_
    
    _Oo-oo when she kissed me_
    
    _I had to fall in love_
    
    _Oh it was a kiss oo-oo what a kiss_
    
    _It was it really was such a kiss_
    
    _Oh how she could kiss oh what a kiss_
    
    _It was it really was such a kiss_
    
    _Just the thought of her lips_
    
    _Sets me afire_
    
    _I reminisce and I'm filled with desire_
    
    _But I'd gave my heart to her in sweet surrender_
    
    _How well I remember, I'll always remember_
    
    _It was a night oo-oo what a night_
    
    _It was it really was such a night_
    
    _Came the dawn and my heart and her love_
    
    _And the night was gone_
    
    _But I'll never forget the kiss_
    
    _The kiss in the moonlight_
    
    _How well I remember, I'll always remember_
    
    _Such a night…_

-----

And that's how it's done. Don't forget your reviews, people.  They DRIVE ME FORWARD! Lots of love!

_XX Monnie_


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